


A pseudo-Yandere's internal monologue

by Paradoxilicious



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, There is some angst I guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 03:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14511480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradoxilicious/pseuds/Paradoxilicious
Summary: This takes place in an AU where Sayori’s noose is loose enough for her to realise what the fuck she was doing and successfully stop. As for Yuri’s cray cray rating, if Yuri in the first scene was a one and knaifu waifu was a ten, she would be a three to a seven, varyingly.Oh, and yeah.  The MC is named Ren(oh yes, yes I did).





	A pseudo-Yandere's internal monologue

It was 6 AM in a regular morning.

The sun had just come out, blushing like Ren had complimented it unfairly for a poem it wrote with a forced overarching metaphor.

Birds chirped annoyingly sweet.

The now sharpened tip of the pen I had uh, filched, from Ren dug graciously on the large of my forearm, producing a satisfyingly sleek cut. A sharp squeeze caused a sliver of rich, red blood to creep out ever so shyly. It tasted tantalizingly bitter as usual. This was the first cut caused by my love. I dared to wonder how he tasted like. Slightly sour, perhaps? Maybe, just maybe, a tinge of sweetness? If anyone had rare blood like that, I-It had to be him, right?

A high-pitched squeal of a puppy being hit by an oncoming bicycle jolted me out of my reverie.

 

fuck-

 

No. Not again, not again, not again. I stared, no, gaped, wildly at the fresh cut on my otherwise smooth skin. It was the right hand this time. For the first time. In my left was Ren’s pen. What had I done? My mouth gagged violently as my mind mercilessly reminded me of what I thought moments ago. This was getting out of hand. I admit, this was not the first time, I used to even do this out of my own volition. I admit it, I FUCKING ADMIT IT, ALRIGHT? But I had stopped, well, a-at least I truly wanted to, after I met him. He never judged me, could you believe it, never! Perhaps, I thought, I-I hoped, I could be myself around him. But lately it’s as if the universe itself conspires against me. Like it seeks to suck the happiness out of my wretched soul and twist me i-into this VILE, DISGUSTING woman with the most sickeningly debased perception on what love is. A woman who amplifies each of my worst flaws to a nauseatingly cartoonish level. Or maybe the reason was something else and it wanted to help me(at least this time), by sacrificing the canine’s well-being for my own? Some warped take on balance?

I was overthinking. If he could read my mind, he would tell me so, I know he would.  
Simply thinking about him for a bit managed to calm me down. I knew it, I really knew it. I lo-

 

“Yuri! Come down for breakfast, would you? I finally learnt to cook eggs like the people here do, you know, hehe~”

 

Oh. Right. They were back. How long was it this time, months? Years? I really couldn’t remember. And I really didn’t care. Not anymore.  
Washing my face and hands quickly, I meekly stepped down the stairs. There she was. She grew up here, she told me that. And also that she hated it, all of it, all of the culture, how suffocating it was. How she wanted to get out of here and away. And oh did she ever. She got her clutches on the first foreign man she saw and tied the knot. And guess why he was attracted to her in the first place? Cause she grew up here and acted like a stereotypical airhead. Heh.

Now that I think about it, why did they leave me here? What country do I even-

“Ah, there you are! Take a seat! One delicious meal, coming right up!”

Just stop it with the routine already.

Breakfast was soon served with eggs that tasted raw. My grandmother used to make this dish every day. Why is she like this? She seemed completely unfazed, like, like she didn’t care she had cultural amnesia or something.

“The weather here is absolutely ghastly. How do you even survive here?”

A fork and a knife.

Placed on either side.

Exactly five centimeters away from the plate.

Measured laughs every twelve seconds.

Oh yeah, I remember why she left me alone. Because they cannot afford to keep me abroad. They even fired the maid as soon I was fifteen years of age.

I-I, liked her.

The only one being suffocating is you.

I gulp down what was remaining of the pathetic excuse for a breakfast and got up to leave. I had already prepared myself before…. that occurred.

“Hmm? Where are you going, young miss?”

“Today is the day of the school festival.”


End file.
